On my way to Dylan's house it starts to rain - and by rain I mean it pisses it down. By the time I reach his front door I'm drenched – scraggly rat-tail hair, squelchy shoes, the whole pathetic shebang. Go figure, right?

I smack my fist against the door a couple of times, not checking to see if his parents car is there, not caring whether they're in or not. The door opens to reveal my boyfriend, barefoot in the same jeans and black hoodie he was wearing earlier. He looks confused to see me, his confusion soon morphing to concern when he actually sees me.

"Babe? What's wrong? What are you doing here? What – what the fuck happened to your head?" he chokes the last question out, reaching up to move my hair out of the way to get a better look at my mountain-sized bruise. The makeup probably washed off in the great flood on my way here.

I don't answer, pulling away from his hand before it makes contact. He doesn't get to ask the questions, not right now. I'm here to interrogate him, to prove that there has been some monumental misunderstanding and that everything's fine. Only, now that I'm here, I can't seem to form a single sodding syllable, let alone an entire question.

"Babe, what's wrong?" he asks again in my silence. He looks so worried about me, about the bruise, about the fact that I'm stood freezing my ass off in the pouring rain. I just have to know.

"Tell me she's lying," I finally spit out. A mixture of emotions swirls inside of me and I can't seem to settle on just one: anger, hurt, confusion, desperation... I have no idea which one he sees.

You want to know how I know? How I know that Abigail was, in fact, not lying? It's because he doesn't even need to ask what I'm talking about before his eyes light up with pure panic. Instead, he steps out into the rain with me and pulls the door closed behind him, informing me that his parents are home and he doesn't want them to overhear.

"Megan told you."

His words hit me like a truck. The tears come hot and fast, mixing with the rain against my scorching cheeks as I try to force air back into my lungs, but inside I turn completely calm. Maybe calm isn't the right word for it. I don't know. Numb is probably more accurate.

I let out a humourless laugh and shake my head.

"No. Abigail did. But that's all I needed to hear."

I turn around and start to walk away, unable to even look at him as he calls after me. My phone buzzes in my pocket but I don't need to check to see who it is. I don't want to talk to either of them.

"Jade, Jade wait," his hand on my arm spins me around to face him. My eyes still refuse to meet his, instead focusing on his feet as he stands barefoot in the rain. He sounds desperate, panicked as his words tumble over each other to rush out his mouth. "Babe, I swear to you it was a mistake. It meant nothing! We were drunk and stupid – so so stupid – and whatever it was that Abigail said? She probably exaggerated, she doesn't even know what went down and-"

"You know? I'd really rather not know either," I tell him, shaking my head and pushing his hand away. "Don't fucking touch me."

"Babe, please, I love you and I'm so fucking sorry. I swear we didn't-" he cuts off and shakes his head. "I mean we did but like it wasn't completely-"

"God, Dylan, just stop talking," I choke out. My throat hurts with the tears I force back, although not nearly as much as my chest does.

My cracked heart is completely shredded as I finally look at him, not just because of what he did but because of the pain I can clearly see he's feeling. Water droplets drip down from his hair and cling to his cheeks and I know there are tears there too. His heart is breaking as well and that fucking sucks.

And how pathetic does that make me? For my heart to be breaking not just over him but also for him, even though he's the one that caused all this to begin with?

"Okay, let me just-" he shakes his head, clutching at non-existent straws. "I'll drive you home. Let me just drive you home and I can explain..." he trails off as I shake my head.

"What is there to explain Dylan? You got drunk at Neil's party and hooked up with your girlfriend's best friend."

He winces and runs a hand through his hair.

"Please, let me just drive you home."

I shake my head again.

"No. Go back inside and just... just stay the hell away from me."

He calls after me as I walk away, apologising and begging me not to go. It's useless and he knows it. He knows it enough not to bother coming after me again.

In the end, I find myself at a crossroads – figuratively and literally as I plonk myself down on a bench and glance at the tarmac webbing out in different directions. I don't know where to go, what to do. I could go home, crawl into bed and go to sleep so I can forget that this awful day ever happened. I could go and find Megan, scream at her for being such a thieving slut and give her one of those Hollywood-worthy bitch slaps. I could go back and give Dylan one of those, as well.

I toy with the idea for a while, getting a small satisfaction out of playing it out in my head, but deep down I know it won't help this feeling of my heart being crushed like it's a goddamn stress ball.

I trusted them.

"Fuck," I choke out. It stopped raining a while back so this time my tears are unmistakeable, streaming down my face like they're in some kind of race. It's weird, with all the water leaking from my face you would think this feeling of drowning would ease from inside of me. It doesn't. "Shit, shit, shit."

Just like that, the wall of emotional numbness – the only thing keeping me from completely sinking – is demolished.

I sit on the bench and cry all the air out of my lungs, hands covering my face as I sob, run out of breath, breathe, and sob again. It works on a continuous loop until I run out of tears, leaving me to sniffle up the snotty aftermath. I'm sure the people driving past are getting a good show.

I trusted them.

How could they do this to me? Why?

I feel sick.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"Jade?" a voice calls out, breaking me from my self-pity stupor. I glance up at the familiar silver car idling at the junction, window down to show Finn sitting behind the wheel. He motions me over to the car but all I can do is stare at him like a gaping goldfish.

What is he doing?

A blue car stops behind Finn, the driver honking angrily a few times at him for blocking the road. He doesn't budge, simply flips the other car off and eventually it swerves around and continues down the road, the man no doubt cursing him all the way.

I quickly stand up and walk over to the car before any more disgruntled drivers turn up.

"What are you doing?" I ask when I'm near enough, my voice hoarse from crying. Hopefully he doesn't notice over the purr of the car's engine.

He takes one long look at me and I don't need a mirror to know what he's seeing. Soggy clothes, damp hair, puffy eyes, runny makeup, shivering from the cold – all topped off with the dark splotches decorating my forehead. I must look a treat.

"Hop in," is all he says. "I'll drive you home."

"I'm okay," I reply, shaking my head and motioning for him to leave. "I mean, thanks for the offer but-"

"I'm not leaving you here," he cuts me off. "I can wait all day if I have to."

I don't understand why these people are so nice to me when they clearly have no qualms with flipping off random strangers on the street. After all, Finn only knows me a fraction better than the owner of that blue car.

I start to decline the offer again and he makes a point of turning off the engine, ignoring the new car that comes to a stop behind him. A similar situation plays out as with the blue car, the only difference being this one is red and driven by a young woman. Finn barely glances her way as she too drives around him with an unhappy honk.

"You are aware that the rules of the road apply even to you Coleman's, right?" I ask, watching the car drive away.

"Well us Coleman's don't apply to the rules," he replies, shrugging. "It's more fun that way." His eyes glint mischievously and I simply raise an eyebrow at him.

"And you want me to get in a car with you?"

"Sure. There's music and heating and seats that aren't made from old wood. It's a riot."

Heating sounds nice, I am kind of chilly.

"Come on, Jade," he says when I glance back down the road, still undecided. "I promise you'll only die a little."

Despite my heavy heart, I crack a smile. It's small and lasts for about half a second but, even so, it makes me feel a bit more like myself.

I nod my agreement and make my way to the other side of the car, plonking down into the passenger seat as Finn restarts the engine.

"You hurt?" he asks, glancing over at me.

If only he knew.

I shake my head.

"Good. Just wanted to check," he nods a little and looks back out at the crossroad ahead. "So, what's your address?"

"Actually," I say, finally making my mind up about where I want to go now. "Could you drop me off at the café?"

"Sure," he agrees, turning left.

We drive in silence for a while, him driving and me staring out the window as the world blurs by. This entire day feels like a blur. In fact, this entire week does.

I let out a small sigh.

"You want to talk about it?" Finn asks eventually.

"Not really," I admit.

I see him nodding out the corner of my eye as he falls silent again. I return to watching the outside world.

"You know," he speaks up after a few more quiet minutes. "Whoever it is, they're not worth it."

"No, they're not," I agree.

So why do I still feel so shitty?

"It's my boyfriend," I admit eventually, unsure of why I do even as the words leave my mouth. Finn Coleman sure as hell isn't going to care about my relationship drama.

Maybe I just need to tell someone – anyone.

"And my best friend," I add.

"Ah," Finn says, wincing and shaking his head. He doesn't need me to elaborate any. "Assholes."

You can say that again.

"Yeah," I sigh.

"Is it the chick from the café?" he asks. "You going there to beat her up?"

"No. Different friend," I explain.

"Damn. I was so hoping for a good showdown," he sighs. I give him a look and he winks, making me snort a quiet laugh and roll my eyes.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I fish it out to turn it off, staring for a second at the picture of Dylan and I as it lights up my screen. I set it for his caller ID six months ago.

Asshole.

I decline the call and power off my phone, returning it to my pocket.

"Want me to beat him up?" Finn offers, his voice softening a little which makes me wonder what my face is letting show.

For a split second, I'm tempted to say yes. Then I remember who exactly I'm talking to. I have no doubt that Finn would follow through – and then some.

"No but I appreciate the offer," I tell him. He shrugs.

"Well, if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me." He pulls the car to a stop opposite the café, killing the engine and turning to look at me. "Take it from someone who knows. Broken hearts patch themselves up eventually, they just need a little time."

His words surprise me.

"You mean, you've had your heart broken?" I ask curiously, realising only a second too late how that may have sounded more than a little insensitive.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "Believe it or not, us Coleman's do actually have them. Most people would probably disagree but then I guess it's all a matter of opinion."

Huh.

"You know, you're really easy to talk to," I inform him. Who would've thought it?

"Only with people worth talking to," he replies, dropping another of his infamous winks my way. "You'll get through this. You're a survivor, I can tell."

Always have been.

I thank him for the lift and clamber out of the car, remembering only at this point that my bruise is no longer covered. As I make my way towards Wilson's I scrape my hair to cover my forehead more, hoping I don't catch too much attention as I push the door open with my free hand.

My eyes instantly land on Ellie at the till, appearing to be caught mid conversation with an unhappy customer.

"I'm really sorry," Ellie tries to placate the irate woman. "I promise you, we're trying to get the problem fixed as soon as possible." She looks tired, really tired.

"Well I don't have time to wait around," the woman snaps back, turning around and storming for the door.

I won't lie, I'm more than a little tempted to stick my foot out and trip her up as she passes me.

"What's going on?" I ask, my attention moving from the closing door back to Ellie.

The place is empty, save for the two women sat together in the back corner, sipping on their coffees and chatting about the bad weather.

"Jesus. I could ask you the same. Are you okay?" Ellie replies, eyes widening as she takes in my appearance from head to toe. She speaks again before I can answer, her words aimed towards the kitchen. "Dad, I'm taking five!"

"Okay," he calls back, his voice barely audible as Ellie is already dragging me up the stairs. We reach her living room and instantly take refuge on the sofa.

"What the hell has happened to you?" she asks before I get the chance to pipe up. She looks worried and I know for a fact that she's referring to my face. Funnily enough, though, a little bruising is the least of my worries right now.

"Dylan and Megan got it on at Neil's party the other night," I tell her and, shocking the pair of us, I burst into tears again completely without warning. One second I'm fine and then next I'm back to the blubbering mess I was out on the bench.

Whatever Ellie had been expecting to hear, it clearly wasn't that.

"I'm sorry, what now?" she asks. It takes her a few seconds to process what's happening before she scoots closer to me and places her arm around my shoulders for comfort. "Wait, Jade, are you sure? I mean, this is Dylan we're talking about here."

I nod and place my hands over my face, trying to force myself to calm down as I hiccup out another sob. "A-Abigail told me," I try to explain. "I went to con-" another sob wracks through my entire body and I try to breathe it away, scrubbing at my damps cheeks with the back of my sleeve. "Confront Dylan about it and-" I cut off and shake my head.

"I'm going to kill him," Ellie seethes. "Both of them." She pulls away and looks me dead in the eye. "Please tell me you beat his ass into the next century."

I choke out a humourless laugh and shake my head. "No. I ran away and cried like a baby. Finn found me and brought me-"

"Back up. Who's Finn?" she asks.

"Oh. Uh. Coleman," I reply, feeling something close to guilt as I admit it – like a kid caught doing something they know they shouldn't.

Ellie stares at me, blinks, tilts her head, and blinks again.

"Okay," she says. "I think you need to back up a tad further."

***

"Okay," Ellie says, "let me see if I have this right. Bailey blackmailed you into letting her go on some slasher movie date with the small Coleman-"

"Alex."

"And now you're unintentionally on the fast track to becoming their new best friend?"

"I'm not their friend," I deny quick as a gun. "But yes, that's basically the gist of it." I've explained most of it, left out maybe one or two details that she really doesn't need to be stressing over. It feels good to have finally told someone who isn't Bailey about my unexpected new tie to one of the towns most feared gangs, like some big weight I didn't even know I'd been carrying is suddenly lifted from my shoulders. The relief doesn't last long.

I sit and wait, sniffling up the last of my tears as I brace myself for the torrent of accusations about how I'm a dumbass and should never again be allowed to make a single decision ever. Instead, she leans back against the sofa cushions and stares at me.

"I knew that guy was into you!" she exclaims, snapping her fingers and pointing at me. "I called it from day one."

Um, what?

It takes me a minute to catch up to where her head's at.

"Lucas?" I ask incredulously, unable to hold back a laugh. "I can tell you right now he isn't."

Lucas Coleman does not like me. Although I'm pretty sure now that he doesn't hate me either. I'm pretty sure because I'm almost certain he doesn't think enough of me to feel either. I'm merely a minor inconvenience in his life, one he is no doubt hoping will buzz off soon enough.

"Uh huh," she replies, clearly not believing me. "Whatever you say, pal."

I roll my eyes but don't comment. At the end of the day, it doesn't really matter what she thinks. It doesn't change the truth.

Her gloating sobers up fast, she frowns and presses her lips together in a way that informs me she has something to say but doesn't know how to breach it.

"What's up?" I ask.

"The sky," she mutters noncommittally before finally speaking her thoughts. "Okay, I've got to ask...the Coleman's. They didn't, you know," she trails off and taps her forehead lightly, "did they?"

"Oh," I say, suddenly realising what she's asking. "No, God no." I shake my head.

"Good," she says, her relief clear. "So what the hell happened?"

I open my mouth to answer but she beats me to it.

"Did you slip in the shower again?" she asks. Her guess isn't unjustified. I did slip in the shower a few months ago, bruising my entire left side and having to take some time off work. Ellie, being the concerned friend that she was, had just laughed and called me a dickhead when I called to let her and Paul know.

"Actually," I speak up. "Yes."

The lie turns sour in my mouth. I've never been a fan of lying but, sometimes, it's just easier than explaining the truth. This is one of those times.

She would only worry and there's really nothing for her to worry about.

She snorts out a laugh and rolls her eyes at me. "You guys seriously need to invest in a shower mat," she tells me.

Stella already has, after my first fall, but obviously I don't tell Ellie that.

"Tell me about it," I sigh, guilt gnawing at me as the lie continues. Thankfully, she moves the conversation on pretty fast.

"Even so," she says, frowning a little. "I'm not so sure that hanging around those guys is a good idea. I mean, serving them coffee is one thing. They're not exactly..."

"Trust me, I know," I say when she trails off. "But Bailey-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it," she says. "I don't like it but I get it. You've got to look out for her."

"Hopefully this whole thing will pass," I say, trying to reassure her.

A heavy feeling starts in my chest as I make the conscious choice to not defend the brothers. I refuse to call it guilt. Of course the Coleman's aren't the best people to hang around, everyone knows that.

Still, siding with Ellie and agreeing that the Coleman's are bad news doesn't seem fair to them somehow.

Finn and Lucas could've easily left me stranded last night when Salazar came after me. They chose not to. They chose to help.

Finn could've left me on that bench earlier but, again, he didn't.

Maybe they're not completely bad news.

"Let's talk about something else," I sigh. "What was Miss Bigmouth hooting about when I got here?"

"Ugh," she rolls her eyes, accepting my change of topic without missing a beat. She's very much like Charlotte in that sense. "Our card machine packed up today. People have been complaining about it all day, gobbing off because they couldn't pay for shit."

"Why didn't you just tell them to nip to the cashpoint? It's only two minutes down the road."

"Oh, you haven't heard?" she asks. "It got broken into last night. Some twats looking for quick cash." She rolls her eyes. "Typical, right? Great timing for us." She shakes her head. "The camera was down and there were no witnesses, as per. It's out of order until further notice."

"Huh," is all I reply, a niggling feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. It tells me that I know exactly who stole the cash. In fact, it tells me that I was even an unknowing accomplice.

Fighting, dealing, stealing - the Coleman's are bad news. They're just not bad to me.

The thought is as comforting as it is unsettling. 

*********